


Several Events That Occur to People Who Suddenly Have More in Common Than They Did a Few Minutes Ago

by Indefinite_article



Series: Snail AU [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Den Den Mushi - Freeform, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indefinite_article/pseuds/Indefinite_article
Summary: For the actions that must be taken, a foundation must be built. That is not what this is about. This is about what happens before even that, the hiring of the builders, so to speak.“Pipipipipipi”
Series: Snail AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122140
Kudos: 1





	Several Events That Occur to People Who Suddenly Have More in Common Than They Did a Few Minutes Ago

**Author's Note:**

> This may make more sense if you've read the first part of the series, though it may also not. The first part will probably make more sense after you've read this, so the order is up to you.

The weak winter sunlight filtered in through the blinds of the window, shining down on the inhabitants slowly rousing themselves from sleep. Sol was drifting out of unconsciousness, aware of the warmth of her covers against the cold of the surrounding air when the calm was split by a sound.

“Purururururururururururururu-”

The snail cut off suddenly as she slammed her hand on the receiver and ground out a greeting. 

The conversation didn’t last long, and she was soon left with a silent snail, a laundry list of random items and a familiar feeling of exasperation for the child she had raised. 

“What was it?” her wife asked sleepily from the bed.

“Croe and, I’d imagine, another one of their ill-advised experiments” Sol sighed, “I’d be surprised if we had any of this in stock anywhere on the island, so they’d better fuckin’ hope that the next supply ship has what they’re looking for or storm god help me they’re waiting for the summer. I’m not risking items of this value in the winter storms  _ or _ the spring pirates”

*

Reiju stalked into her room, high heels clicking on the tiles as she kept up her emotionless facade with all the flagging strength of her fourteen years. As soon as the door closed and her shoes hit carpet, though, it was dropped and her shoulders slouched, poise forgotten as she kicked the heels across the room and collapsed on the bed. Her arms burned from holding a gun and her head was spinning with information. 

She knew that asking for extra science lessons on top of her already heavy workload might have been a mistake but she couldn’t bring herself to regret the little nuggets of gold that came out of them. Names, and faces and locations and proof that the world was out there. That this bloodstained castle carried on the artificially stabilised backs of those forced to grow too fast wasn’t all that there was. That Sanji was out there, cooking meals and making people happy like he always wanted. Like Mother always wanted him to. Like Mother always wanted  _ them _ to. But that was too hard a thought to dwell on, even in these dark moments.

She settled on the window seat and looked down at the snail carrying her castle. Grown too big, too fast, leaving the architects and engineers to desperately shore it up, its shell was hollow, full of supports and structures to stop it just caving in on itself. She smiled to herself, wry and hollow but still more real than the mask she wore in front of witnesses, and looked at her hands.

“Is it so selfish,” she mused, “to want to see someone that _ works _ ? Someone with loving parents, with close friends, with a job that helps others? Someone I could model my blueprints off, a guideline, a helping hand to make sure that my fixes don’t make things worse, a stable structure to reassure me that it is possible, that I can find some sort of balance within myself? Because otherwise…” She spread her fingers, thinking of the scars, the marks, the calluses that should be there but aren’t. “I don’t think I’ll know I’m hurt until it’s too late.”

“Pipipipipipipipipipi”

She startled and looked around her, tracking the noise to her Den Den Mushi. Its eyes were brimming with tears, almost obscuring the way its pupils have been filled with two deep pink ‘ X ’s.

*

Tom stumbled through the door of his workshop, body still shifting to adjust for the phantom waves he’d been dealing with all day. He’d been assessing the seafloor for the next stretch of the sea train tracks when he’d come across a section that had shifted massively outside of his predictions. Now he was returning to his maps in the hopes that he’d something minor to explain it, and it was safe to keep laying the tracks. He only had the rest of the year to finish the project and didn’t think that the Marines would accept another extension request. He dug out the papers of calculations and references from the bottom of the piles he’d discarded them into years ago, watching the towers topple with wide exhaustion-dried eyes and resolved to pick them up tomorrow. He just needed to go over this, and there’d be records of the rock being of a different composition and he wouldn’t need to find a new trajectory this late into the project. He wouldn’t. 

He’d lost track of time, rummaging through his piles of records and reports and surveys, squinting at them desperately in the dim yellow light of the one lamp he’d had the energy to turn on, glowing from halfway across the room. He was about to turn around and go through the first pile again when a soft voice offered, “Try checking the locations of the river mouths on the neighbouring islands.”

Of course! He reached for the local map and, sure enough, the river Thalweg opened out right next to the problem area, with enough size and strength to account for differences in erosion patterns. If they just added an extra tether opposing it the tracks would be perfectly stable. He sighed with relief, taking into account the mess of the room and his own state.

“Well then, guess I’ll be headed to bed now, I’ll write up the report tomorrow, when I can see what I’m doing with the pen. Thanks for the help...” 

He looked up, just realising that he hadn’t heard anyone come in, to see the Den Den Mushi he kept in his workshop meeting his eyes, with pupils marked by dark blue ‘ **X** ’s.

*

Gyoncorde Plaza was burning. Nautil could smell it in the air, that strange smell of an ink-and-paper fire. It was inevitable, the elder snails had sighed, a well-meaning accord between nobles without true knowledge of the world was always going to end in fire. The question was, they had said, was what followed. If it was solved with healing water and burn cream or - Nautil flinched as a gunshot rang through the square- with blood.

He hunched deeper into his shell, unwilling to retract fully, not when there was a chance he could see something of history. Even if he was facing the wrong way. Even if it was all he could do to keep his eye-stalks out. Even if his view was blocked by-- that wasn’t a fish-man, not even a mermaid. Not with its w- shaped eyes, set too deep in a flat head, not with its bright orange skin, changing texture to match the pile of bags they sat on even as it moved, not with its serrated beak, poised above Nautil’s shell ready to bite when- 

“ _ You...You feel like her” _

A whispering in his mind, leveraging the panic signal he’d been unconsciously sending for its own voice.

“Her?” he squeaked out, hoping that he could stall long enough for someone, anyone to notice the feeling of overwhelming  _ other _ that made him shiver in his shell.

_ “Yes… Our Lady...The one whose call we must answer...Even if it is as weak as this...Even if  _ I  _ am as weak as this”  _ The beak retracted, the head flattened further, the eyes darted around.  _ “And now the call is gone...And I didn’t even get a meal from it...Pity..”  _

It rippled away across the floor, colour matching its surroundings but always preferring warmer tones. Nautil reacted the way any sensible creature would after such an encounter; He retracted fully into his shell and had a panic attack.

Some time later, while settling into his new home in Hard-Shell Tower, he reflected on the incident. Taking into account the few people who handled him, the few he might ‘feel like’. Princess Shirahoshi’s outgrowing of her father at just six years of age, something that could not even be attributed to the fish she took after. Her brothers’ insistence at dancing after witnessing their mother’s death, to cheer up a child that had every right to cry. The event that lead to the signatures being collected in the first place was the thing that clinched it and he realised he was in way over his head. Another panic attack soon followed, though this one was accompanied by a call to a friend, a plan of action being decided and eyes with pupils like this ‘ **X** ’. 

*

Shouts of anger and profanity filtered through the sturdy wood door, accompanying the odd thud and shudder as weapons flew off course. Zeff was sure he’d see some new scars marring the outside when he left but, critically, none on the inside. He’d made sure of that after the tenth pirate broke it down looking for someone higher up with whom to lodge their complaints. He almost regretted it now, a good fight would calm him down and help him keep a clear head for this damn accounting. 

A voice called out from deeper in the storeroom: “We’re nearly out of potatoes too.”

“Thanks, Sanji, I’ll make a note.” Of course he wasn’t letting the kid out into a brawl when he wasn’t out there to protect him, even if he had to subject himself to constant reminders of the poor state of their stocks. The kid was all about trying to pull his weight, nevermind how young he was, or that their problems came more from bad luck than low manpower. 

There’d been a world government raid on a nearby island’s black market, burning it down for possession of Dance Powder. Of course, then had to be the time one of those raids were right about what was happening and the island had almost flooded under the massive amount of rain called by the burning dance powder. The upshot was that most food stores anywhere near that island were either rotted by the rain or drained by providing relief for the subsequent drought. They’d had to remove some items from the menu as a result and some of their regulars had reacted...poorly. 

“Hey geezer, it sounds like they’ve done fighting out there, should I go and help with the cleanup?” Sanji had walked up while he was lost in thought, hand on the door already.

“Keep yourself out of broken glass, I don’t want to have to bandage you up if you hurt yourself doing something stupid.” The kid would go out anyway if he told him not to, had probably seen through his attempt to keep him in. He’d just have to rely on Carne and Patty to keep him safe.

He returned to the books as soon as the door was closed, writing down islands that might have been out of the range of the Dance Powder drought. He sighed, “But damn, I just wish there was some way of knowing what state an island was in before we committed to heading towards it. We’re so reliant on word of mouth and fallible memories right now, we don’t even have a good way of organising a relief effort if the island is unaffected.” He was turning back to grab his pen when he heard something. A quiet 

“Pipipipipipipi”

It was coming from his snail, alert as if there was an active call, meeting his eyes with pupils scored with red ‘ **X** ’s.

*

Viola sat in the bed, back to the wall, covers wound round her in a cruel mockery of the nests she used to make as a child as if they would protect her from those outside the door. Tomorrow she would leave, hold her head up high and become the pirate she needed to be to protect her father. But today she would sit on the bed she’d been given, wrap herself in blankets, bow her head and cry for the tragedy that had befallen her. Tomorrow she would be strong, would learn to fight dirty, would do anything she could for her family and people. But today she would weep for what she couldn’t do, for who she couldn’t save. 

“What good am I?” She sobbed out, “I can see everything around me, know danger for so long before it comes, but I’m still unable to help, unable to even warn of it.” She leaned down further, shoulders shaking, eyes flickering open and closed as she fought the morbid urge to use Clairvoyance to look anyway. She was almost too absorbed in her own mental battle to notice a muffled sound, a faint, “Pipipipipipipi” coming from her dress pocket.

Her eyes widened and she remembered the baby Den Den Mushi she’d grabbed at the beginning of the attack. Frantically digging it out, her eyes met the mismatched ones of the young snail. One had black pupils and a deep purple ‘ **X** ’ and the other was maroon-pupilled with a pink one. As soon as she clicked the receiver button the purple took over and it adopted an air of panic.

“Scarlett’s in danger! And… there’s something wrong with my memories!”

“Who are you? And what do you mean there’s something wrong with your memories?” She hissed back, wracking her brain for a face that matched the relatively few changes the snail was showing.

“Never mind who I am, that would complicate things too much for now,” it replied, seemingly getting the message and lowering its voice. “Scarlett and Rebecca left, and there’s no one in the house, but there’s three sets of shoes missing! The table is set for three, but we don’t have any guests coming. Scarlett raised Rebecca alone, but there’s three people in the pictures! Do you remember what happened to Rebecca’s father?”

Viola blinked back in shock, but, “I...never met him? How would I let that happen? It...was a one night stand? Scarlett doesn’t do that sort of thing? But then… how would I have forgotten..” Her eyes widened. “Sugar!”

“Sugar? The creepy child?” The mysterious voice asked, but the Den Den Mushi’s eyes switched over to the maroon and pink that had been present at the start.

“She threatened… Oh our gods, she threatened to erase your memory of your father.” The snail looked like it was going to be sick.

“Relax kid,” The purple was back “We know what’s going on now, we just need to get in contact with Scarlett and tell her, maybe try and figure out a safe house while we’re at it. If it was something they decided as a family, she might have forgotten.”

“Get in contact? How?” Viola was glad that the purple one was so calm, she had soundly freaked out upon realising the holes in her memories, that she was missing an entire brother-in-law, potentially even more.

“We can just- oh, right. Viola, can you use your Clairvoyance to find out where they are?”

Sparing just a thought to what they had been about to suggest, she activated it and, gritting her teeth against what she was seeing, scanned the streets for tell-tale pink hair. There! And she hadn’t even bothered to cover it. Surely she would have remembered her- she didn’t have lessons? Or her teacher was… Shaking her head, Viola refocused and reported the street the pair were on. 

“That’s...Lucia!” A voice muttered by her side.

“What are you-” She didn’t even have time to finish the statement when the closest announcement Mushi woke up, imitating her face, even the pink glow of her eyes as she used her power. “Right…” she muttered, unnerved by seeing her own face imitated so perfectly. “Scarlett!” She called.

Scarlett immediately turned, “Viola?” She asked, desperate hope tinting her speech

“I’m calling through this Mushi, but you have to listen to me!” Viola unconsciously hunched closer to the snail she was talking through, fruit-enhanced eyes trained on her sister and niece. “Our memories have been changed, and we can’t trust that we know best from them. I’ll guide you with my devil fruit. You’re going to get out of there!”

*

Croe had lost track of time, curled up in spreadsheets, reports and histories, just straining their eyes further as the light of day died and they were left to read by the soft glow of the growing lights. Damus’s call left them looking about in confusion, becoming aware of their headache, hunger pangs and the desperate dryness of dehydration. They fumbled around, one hand feeling for the light switch, the other for the freezer handle, finding neither. A moment of thought had them turning around and noticing their partner in crime staring at them with exactly the amount of exasperation they’d come to expect from them.

“Light switch’s on the wall next to you, turn it up slowly or you’ll blind yourself again. You took the raspberries out of the freezer three hours ago, they’re all melted in a bowl on your desk. The meeting’s in twenty minutes, aspirin’s on the coffee table by the comfy chair.”

“Thanks Damus, lemme jus…” They reached for the light, inelegantly fumbling it up, blinking as they, yet again, turned it too fast. 

“Cannot believe we’ve got these people thinking we’re some kind of devil-fruit-powered superspy,” Damus muttered, flicking through the feeds from the others.

“I’m sure we’ll fuck it up soon enough,” Croe remarked cheerfully, throwing themselves onto the armchair. “How’s Feuille doing?” 

“She managed to just about get in contact with a castle snail and… It’s not pretty.” Damus shook his head. “Whatever those Germa scientists did to get them to grow so large did a real number on the development of most everything else. She said it was like contacting a baby that had just found a frequency others used. It was so scared of the idea of a ‘voice in its head’ that it almost immediately shut her out. We’re gonna need to decode more of those documents Reiju stole, and even then we’d need an expert to administer treatment. It may have to wait until we have more human operatives.”

“Well… that’s what we’re holding the meeting for, isn’t it?” Croe remarked, with forced brightness. “To get all the humans on the same page.”

“Yes, and speaking of, Bill’s initiating contact,” Damus informed them, left eye lighting up and projecting an image on the wall. As the colours of the square faded in to reveal a cluttered workshop so did the beginning of a series of black circles at the bottom of the wall. It started with two filled with a black ‘ **X** ’ and a black ‘ **+** ’, followed by a pair with dark blue markings. 

The series was soon to complete, each ‘x’ matching a snail’s joining and each ‘+’ a human. “Right then,” Croe clapped their hands. “First group meeting agenda, part one: Deciding on a name!”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think?  
> Some notes:  
> Forgive me the OC but I needed someone to fit a role that I don’t think I could shove a canon character into  
> Also, I’m trying to change up which god(s) people swear to and have reasons for all of them.  
> The things that Nautil is describing would probably fit a fish-man, but the description is more about the visceral terror he’s feeling than its actual appearance being scary.  
> Sugar’s devil fruit affects Chopper so it clearly works the same on animals.


End file.
